"What happens when all the parts of childhood are soldered down, when the young no longer have the time or space to play in their family's garden, cycle home in the dark with the stars and moon illuminating their route, walk down through the woods to the river, lie on their backs on hot July days in the long grass, or watch cockleburs, lit by the morning sun, like bumblebees quivering on harp wires? What then?" — Richard Louv, Last Child in the Woods